Flushed Out
by Jack of All Suits
Summary: Disney-based. Sometimes it's difficult to do what's right, and sometimes the right things are the hardest to do. Clopin and Esmeralda find themselves in a situation to ponder this. Set shortly before the capture of the Court of Miracles. oneshot


**Wow it's been a long time since I made a HOND fic! Enjoy, and review!**

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"Every safehold but the Court has been discovered."

"The roads out of Paris are blocked."

"We have food for two weeks – three if we stretched it."

"We're doomed."

"It's useless."

His jaw clenched as the conversation took yet another unpleasant turn for the worst. His head was aching, he was hungry, he was cold, and he hadn't slept in three days. As it were, though, nothing was in his mind except the desire to survive, and even that was starting to look like a dangerously unlikely outcome. The gypsies had always been prosecuted, it was an accepted fact in their daily life.

But this…

They were being flushed out like rats.

"Trouillefou, what are we going to do?"

Clopin rubbed his eyes wearily and leaned against the arm of his chair testily. "We've gotten out of messes before…" He provided hopefully. "There is _always_ a weak spot in these plans of their's. We just have to find it." He spread his hands over the map of Paris they had laid out, gently criss-crossing the black ink stains that marked their lost havens. He lingered on one that marked a cellar inside one of the city's prominent breweries, stifling a miserable curse as he did. This was getting out of hand…

His train of thought was interrupted when one of the men sat up with a sour expression. "The only weak spot is La Esmeralda." There was a murmur of agreement and against his will, Clopin tensed. "Please, Trouillefou. Listen to some reason for once in your life! Is one life worth a hundred?" The question had been thrown around sporadically over the last several weeks, as the gypsy population of Paris took a sudden nosedive.

"It's not…" Sleep deprivation seemed to rob him of his usual eloquence, and Clopin paused for a moment before proceeding. "Blaming Esmeralda for this isn't right. And what good would come of it?" He stood up and paced across the floor restlessly. "We know that if we gave into this… gave her up…" The thought made him uneasy, but he continued. "It would only make our people seem like cowards. We can win, but we won't do it by bowing to that judge." He looked between them all imploringly.

"This isn't some game we're playing!" Jacques was on his feet, and Clopin grimaced as the heavy set man thumped his fist against the table they were employing. A splinter fell off the groaning wooden surface, but it wasn't about practicality. It was all about creating an illusion of control. Like this was a meeting, and not a bunch of scared boys trying to keep their clubhouse secret. "You just want to keep her safe, and you don't care what happens to the rest of us while you do it!"

Despite his best efforts, Clopin rose at the barb and scowled. "_I _don't care? I've been running myself in circles trying to keep everything together!" Before he could get another word in, the room erupted into a chaotic mess of accusations. With an expression that bordered on defeated, Clopin slumped back into his seat and watched miserably as Jacques hurled a mug of water at Louis, who in turn lunged across the table and engaged the room in a typical brawl. On instinct, Clopin tilted his head to the left to avoid a flying block of wood, then to the right when a stray knife came hurtling in his direction.

He watched with a sour expression for several more minutes, but they all seemed to be too preoccupied to remember the issue at hand, so with a tremendous sigh Clopin heaved himself up and sauntered out the door. The room was separate from the remainder of the catacombs, in order to keep whatever they were talking about a secret for at least a few hours. Had he had the energy, Clopin might have frightened the few individuals that always lurked around outside, hoping for some information to lord over everyone's head, but instead, he trudged forward with every intention of going to sleep.

The Court – that is to say, the central hub of their underground realm – was loud enough to make him almost turn around and walk away. Clopin hadn't actually spent much time in there as of late, and whenever he did manage to crawl back to sleep off some stress, it was generally during the wee hours of the morning, when the makeshift streets were only half full. Now that he could see the full extent of the terror the Parisian authorities were inspiring, he felt his half-smile fade into a deep frown.

The streets were literally blocked with gypsies, most of whom seemed to be on their way in as opposed to out. The place smelled like a stable that had been washed in beer and sweat, and the atmosphere was full of tangible tension. Before Clopin could take in any more of the sight(was that someone sleeping on a roof?), a body collided with his back and he found himself thrown into the hectic mob.

"This is awful—"

"—not doing anything to—"

"We'll starve here, you know—"

"If Esmeralda would just—"

"—hardly worth being called a leader—"

His face fell into a thoroughly irritated expression and Clopin used whatever methods he could to get away from the sea of bodies. There was no point of apologizing when he stepped on feet or elbowed someone out of the way – it wasn't as if they knew it was him anyway. Besides, it sounded as though he and Esmeralda were getting the brunt of whatever blame was available anyway. Not that he had seen _her_ in the last three weeks, besides at a distance when he was sneaking around the city.

"_Mon Dieu._" Clopin finally spied a gap in the herd and darted forward, slipping into a space between two shacks where he could relax momentarily without getting run over by a mob of gypsies. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain whatever peace of mind he could have in the present situation. Just five minutes of sleep. That was all Clopin wanted. Five miserable minutes.

He sank onto the ground, unwilling to try fighting his way into a room. One hand blearily rose and slid his hat over his eyes, then Clopin leaned against the wall of the shack behind him with every intention of falling asleep for as long as he could.

"_Clopin!_ Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

For the love of God. He might as well toss himself under an axe is he wanted any measure of sleep today. Clopin reached up wearily and adjusted his hat again before fixing his sleep-deprived gaze on Esmeralda, who happened to have the terrifying expression of a woman scorned.

"Mmh, twenty-eight days, _mon petite cheri_?" He volunteered, hiding a yawn.

She stomped closer, shoving her way through the crowd until she was only a foot away. "No, just a few hours." She corrected harshly. What had _her _in such a bad mood? Clopin forwent any sort of self-important posture and leaned his head against his knees, looking at her through the corner of his eye. "Listen, I've got something to tell you."

"Can it wait? I'm tired, Little Esme. Talk later."

"It won't _wait_ until later! This is important!"

"Last time you thought something was important, you knocked out ten soldiers and got us all in this mess." He immediately regretted his sudden temper. Clopin was well known for being a difficult person to anger, but he had spent three weeks getting grated from every side, and now it was reflected upon the last person he ever became irritated with.

Esmeralda's expression crumbled into something akin to distress, and she bit her lip, a sure sign that he'd hit a nerve. "You're blaming me too, aren't you?" She murmured miserably. "I thought _you _would be on my side."

Clopin groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. "I did not mean it like that, Esmeralda. I just mean that I haven't slept in three days and I'm losing whatever sanity I ever had." His lips quirked into a hasty smirk. "And goodness knows I need every ounce of _that_ I can get."

She tossed herself down next to him and they both looked out at the Court as it buzzed with activity and stress. "They all hate me now." She confided unhappily. "But…even if I surrendered myself-" Clopin looked up in warning, "-_not_ that I would. But even if I did, what good will it do? Frollo's insane, and he has a grudge against all of us."

"That's what I told them. Of course, they don't seem to like _me_ very much anymore, either." Clopin stretched languidly. "But, _c'est la vie_! They will realize soon enough."

"Why would they hate you?"

"They believe I'm being- what's the word? Ah! Biased towards you. That I am not taking the Court into consideration."

"That's… you wouldn't do that."

Clopin's lips descended into the realm of a new frown. "_Non_… I think I would." He glanced at her and grinned lopsidedly again. "After all, you're my Little Esme, eh?" He ruffled her hair, and to his horror her eyes welled up. "What? Why are you crying, silly girl! Come on, _mon petite ange_, cheer up!"

Esmeralda breathed in shakily and ran a fist stubbornly over one of her eyes. "No one else seems to be willing to stand up for me." She admitted sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry. I haven't been sleeping much, either."

"Maybe we're both going crazy! That's okay, Esme, we can go to the same crazy house and eat our mashed peas together!"

She laughed, though the sound was a perverted mockery of her usual giggles. "I don't like peas."

"Ah well. You can eat the rats."

"_Clopin!_"

He grinned when she slapped his shoulder. "Well, _someone_ has to do the cat's job!" He leaned back again, still struggling against his exhaustion. "This will all work out, Esme." Clopin said seriously, looking at her earnestly. "When have I ever _not_ outsmarted Frollo?"

"There was the time when you stole his horse…"

"That animal is possessed by Satan. No one told me that."

"You got him ten feet! That's a record!"

"Esme, that's pathetic."

"But Clopin, Snowball really _is _possessed."

"_Snowball_? The horse is black!"

"Oh, and what about the time he caught you defacing the Virgin Mary?"

"He did not _catch_ me. If he didn't notice what I was doing, he would be blind."

"What could have made you actually pis—"

"I was very drunk. Remember?"

They caught each other's eyes and started to laugh, softly at first, but eventually they were leaning on one another, shrieking in hilarity as they spoke about the old times. It had been a successful endeavour to help Esmeralda get over her tension about the present situation.

As it went, she leaned against his shoulder, still laughing at whatever he was saying. She yawned once and promptly fell into a deep slumber. Clopin carefully moved her hands away from his shoulder, lest she make an effort in her sleep to choke him, as was her habit. He glanced around the strange little nook they had been inhabiting, and with a little sigh Clopin scooped her up, manoeuvring out of the cramped space.

He pursued the many straggly alleyways that ran through the Court, avoiding the crowds until he successfully reached the tiny dwelling Esmeralda slept within. The cloth covering the doorway was efficiently brushed to the side and within moments she was resting on her own bed. Clopin stood back for a moment to watch her, until Jacques poked his shaggy head in.

Clopin was pleased to see his nose looked broken from the brawl earlier.

"You said you would take Jean's turn with the lookout? He'd be useless anyway- solid asleep now."

"Mmh, of course _mon ami_." Clopin nodded and turned away from Esme, ignoring his own fatigue as he moved to leave. His step was a bit unsteady, but otherwise he sent out the air of someone in utter control. "Well, let's go _Gadje_-catching, eh?"

God help whatever fools stumbled upon their hiding place tonight.

* * *

_Mon Dieu - My God_

_Mon Petite Cheri - My darling/My Little Dear_

_Mon Petite Ange - My Little Angel_

_Gadje - A Romani term used to refer to outsiders_


End file.
